One Thing at a Time

Macy’s Department Store, Bellingham Washington:
Excuse me? Young man? Could you help me? I need a black suit. Size 38.
What is the occasion, sir?
I’m going to the White House.
Did you say the White House, Sir?
Yes, the Correspondent’s Christmas Party. My son invited me. I have a message for the President.
“We’ll have to tailor these pants, Sir.
I must be shrinking.
Excuse me, Sir? Did you say sinking?
I’m sorry, I have Parkinson’s Disease. Sometimes it’s hard to understand me. I said shrinking.
Oh, yes. I’m sorry Sir. My grandfather has Parkinson’s too. He used to be a farmer.
I used to be an artist. I’d like that Garcia tie. And a coral, silk . . . short-sleeved dress shirt.

9:00 A.M. Pacific Standard Time, Northwest Terminal Sea-Tac Airport, 3,478 miles to go:
Himself, his hand-carved maple cane with the cherry wood handle, his very own Parkinson’s disease and his message.